Story: Timeline
Title: Timeline
Author: writing2death
Word Count: ~700 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for this prompt at your_scribbles : Write 500 words or more, starting in the present moment, going back to some moment in the past, and then returning to the present.
Summary: When she looks in the mirror, this is what she sees: a silly girl with a mess of split ends and too small eyes and a very round face.
Timeline
five.
When she looks in the mirror, this is what she sees: a silly girl with a mess of split ends and too small eyes and a very round face. Her glasses are in her hands because she’s wearing contacts - the frames always lie crooked over her nose. Her ears are uneven. Her teeth are straight and they should be. She spent three years with metal glued to her teeth.
But she smiles at the glass because that’s all right. Her head tilts to the side and she makes the face she always looks at the camera with. She knows exactly who she is. She’s too serious and too silly and she talks too much and she’s too quiet. Sometimes she’s far too normal and sometimes she’s weird and sometimes people look at her and say, ‘you’re a little strange’.
But that’s all right. She knows exactly who she is.
four.
“You’ve always known who you are.”
“Hmm,” she responds because, is that true? She can’t tell. People go to university and collage to find themselves - or at least that’s what the movies and books and adults tell her. She thinks maybe she’s lost herself instead.
“He still doesn’t know who he is yet.”
“No?” She looks at her nails, bitten down to the quick. “Why not?”
Her mom shrugs, “you’ve always been a bit of the odd one. He’s normal. Sixteen year olds aren’t supposed to know who they are yet.” And she smiles.
“Oh.” She doesn’t feel any different. She’s not sure she’s entirely the same either.
Are people supposed to miss high school?
three.
“This is exactly why you’ve never had a boyfriend.”
She narrows her eyes and sighs. “Yes,” she agrees sarcastically, “The fact that I’ve asked you to pick up your stuff all over the living room is the reason I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
She’s sixteen and he’s fourteen and they fight like they’re on opposing sides of a war.
“It’s the way you talk to people,” he argues, an ugly look on his face. “You think you’re better than everyone else and you’re not.”
She’s well aware of her faults, thanks very much. She doesn’t say that though. She just starts picking up the pop bottle and the pair of socks and the chip bowl he left on the floor last night, thinks about the science homework she’s supposed to do for tomorrow, thinks about her story sitting open on the computer instead.
two.
At fourteen, she doesn’t know what to do when her best friend calls her and tells her she might be pregnant. They’re fourteen - she hasn’t even kissed anyone yet.
“You’re what?” is what she says.
Her friend is crying on the other end of the phone. “I don’t know - I just -“
Science facts come tumbling out of her mouth. It’s too early for cravings, are you sure you’re not just late? because that’s normal.
She’s not, it turns out, pregnant- just insane. She phones, an anxious knot tied in her stomach, a week later to find out if her friend is okay.
“Yeah,” is the sleepy answer she gets. She’s woken her up at - checks the clock - four in the afternoon? “It’s all good. But I was sleeping. Can I call you back?”
She frowns. “Yeah,” she sighs. She doesn’t bother waiting for the call.
one.
When she looks in the mirror, this is what she sees: a frown and split ends and a chubby face. That’s what they all tell her she should see, anyway.
She can’t help the frowning. She doesn’t understand. What did she do to make them all dislike her? She hasn’t done anything but be herself since she moved here.
Well, screw that, she thinks, angrily, watching her mouth twist in the mirror. The glass is cool under her fingers as she uncaps her eyeliner and scrawls her name over and over again. She knows who she is. She isn't going to change for them.
present.
Ready?” he asks.
They’re not sixteen and fourteen anymore but they still fight like they’re on opposite ends of a war sometimes.
“Sure,” she lies. She’s not sure she’s ever ready for anything but that’s all right. It doesn’t matter. Just because she’s not ready for it doesn’t mean she won’t get through it.
End.
Author: writing2death
Word Count: ~700 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for this prompt at your_scribbles : Write 500 words or more, starting in the present moment, going back to some moment in the past, and then returning to the present.
Summary: When she looks in the mirror, this is what she sees: a silly girl with a mess of split ends and too small eyes and a very round face.
Timeline
five.
When she looks in the mirror, this is what she sees: a silly girl with a mess of split ends and too small eyes and a very round face. Her glasses are in her hands because she’s wearing contacts - the frames always lie crooked over her nose. Her ears are uneven. Her teeth are straight and they should be. She spent three years with metal glued to her teeth.
But she smiles at the glass because that’s all right. Her head tilts to the side and she makes the face she always looks at the camera with. She knows exactly who she is. She’s too serious and too silly and she talks too much and she’s too quiet. Sometimes she’s far too normal and sometimes she’s weird and sometimes people look at her and say, ‘you’re a little strange’.
But that’s all right. She knows exactly who she is.
four.
“You’ve always known who you are.”
“Hmm,” she responds because, is that true? She can’t tell. People go to university and collage to find themselves - or at least that’s what the movies and books and adults tell her. She thinks maybe she’s lost herself instead.
“He still doesn’t know who he is yet.”
“No?” She looks at her nails, bitten down to the quick. “Why not?”
Her mom shrugs, “you’ve always been a bit of the odd one. He’s normal. Sixteen year olds aren’t supposed to know who they are yet.” And she smiles.
“Oh.” She doesn’t feel any different. She’s not sure she’s entirely the same either.
Are people supposed to miss high school?
three.
“This is exactly why you’ve never had a boyfriend.”
She narrows her eyes and sighs. “Yes,” she agrees sarcastically, “The fact that I’ve asked you to pick up your stuff all over the living room is the reason I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
She’s sixteen and he’s fourteen and they fight like they’re on opposing sides of a war.
“It’s the way you talk to people,” he argues, an ugly look on his face. “You think you’re better than everyone else and you’re not.”
She’s well aware of her faults, thanks very much. She doesn’t say that though. She just starts picking up the pop bottle and the pair of socks and the chip bowl he left on the floor last night, thinks about the science homework she’s supposed to do for tomorrow, thinks about her story sitting open on the computer instead.
two.
At fourteen, she doesn’t know what to do when her best friend calls her and tells her she might be pregnant. They’re fourteen - she hasn’t even kissed anyone yet.
“You’re what?” is what she says.
Her friend is crying on the other end of the phone. “I don’t know - I just -“
Science facts come tumbling out of her mouth. It’s too early for cravings, are you sure you’re not just late? because that’s normal.
She’s not, it turns out, pregnant- just insane. She phones, an anxious knot tied in her stomach, a week later to find out if her friend is okay.
“Yeah,” is the sleepy answer she gets. She’s woken her up at - checks the clock - four in the afternoon? “It’s all good. But I was sleeping. Can I call you back?”
She frowns. “Yeah,” she sighs. She doesn’t bother waiting for the call.
one.
When she looks in the mirror, this is what she sees: a frown and split ends and a chubby face. That’s what they all tell her she should see, anyway.
She can’t help the frowning. She doesn’t understand. What did she do to make them all dislike her? She hasn’t done anything but be herself since she moved here.
Well, screw that, she thinks, angrily, watching her mouth twist in the mirror. The glass is cool under her fingers as she uncaps her eyeliner and scrawls her name over and over again. She knows who she is. She isn't going to change for them.
present.
Ready?” he asks.
They’re not sixteen and fourteen anymore but they still fight like they’re on opposite ends of a war sometimes.
“Sure,” she lies. She’s not sure she’s ever ready for anything but that’s all right. It doesn’t matter. Just because she’s not ready for it doesn’t mean she won’t get through it.
End.